Echo
by Poseidon's Daughter
Summary: Their hearts must have been very strong. They were never only this.


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Post note: due to the fact that their origins have already been covered throughout the KH series, Members I - VI, as well as Roxas, were not included.

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**Echo**

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----------------------- (**VII: Uja**)

To be calm is easy. He has no emotions to speak of.

Madness is easier still. He has no emotions to speak of. And with that thought, to cross the line of sanity one needs only to take a mere skip and a hop to the left.

Luna Diviner. Lunar Divider. Lune Dance. Moon Trance.

Trance.

It's easy.

Death?

That's easy too.

After all, once upon a time, Saïx had a death angel that was all his own.

Without his death angel, without Garland, without the genom- his brothers.

It has never been difficult.

Saïx has mastered the Invincible before.

----------------------- (**VIII: Eno**)

Axel is used to doing what he is told (not that he always does). He is used to it.

Why? Well, the answer is –

Doesn't matter.

They were ready to die, you know. How could they not be? Can't die if you don't exist. Therefore one can never be _un_prepared to die. So yeah. Rebellion or not. Oblivion or not. Disobeying Number I or not. Doesn't matter. Didn't matter. Never materi- mattered. Never mattered. At all. Ever.

Besides….they were sure of victory. Or as close to sure as they were able to get. Laney – Larxene – savage little nymph - seemed fairly confident. So confident that he almost believed her. Almost. He can't believe her. He is not capable of believing. Just as she is not capable of confidence. But they're close. _Oh_, they are close.

Emotions.

They are clueless.

Axel is used to doing what he is told (not that he always does). He _is_ used to it.

Why? Well, the answer is…the correct answer was,

"Because it's our job."

Yeah. That's it.

...Except Axel has no idea what he's talking about.

----------------------- (**IX: Ell**)

A long time ago, Demyx played his song in the underworld. For Hades. Like Orpheus. Only not quite. He had no lady love to rescue. No, Demyx needed only play for distraction. For free reign of the dead land tunnels.

A longer time ago still, Demyx played his song on the horizon of fish. He played his song for a lion.

And in that longer time ago, there _had_ been a lady love to rescue. Two of them, actually. The angel woman, yes. And Mother, as they would later learn her to be. That was the second one, Ede- Mat – Mother. A long time ago.

Once he only needed his fists. His own two hands. He razed _time_ and tore compression.

But that's as far back as he dare go for, truly, he doesn't mean to go at all.

Just sometimes, he plays his song and…

And he remembers.

----------------------- (**X: Asch**)

The Cage, the Slayer, the Bird.

Chance and chaos and misunderstanding.

That is all it had been, really. Had been….or was? All it was? Had been – was –

In any case. Futile the lot of it. Senseless. A chain of events that held neither rhyme nor reason in much regard. Even with key pieces missing, Luxord is convinced of that much. There had been no reason. Only chance – only luck – and he had done, had made, what he could of both.

Futile. The lot of it. Futile.

Like Mirror-Image – like N_oa - _**No**. – he still ended up serving that which he could not defeat. That which stripped him of all he held precious in the first place.

There had been a reason, he is equally sure of that. There had been a purpose. There had been hope.

Luxord is also certain that, without a heart and without proper memory, well….reason and purpose and hope mean very little.

And hindsight is all about chaos and chance.

----------------------- (**XI: Vine**)

Marluxia is not a Reaper. He is an assassin. One shot. That is all he needs. Just one shot. One signal. One shot.

Assassin. Not Reaper.

And as he assassinates – not reaps – the blossoms appear, a flurry, all around. The scythe, Full Bloom. No more cross-hairs. He kills in flowers.

Like her. The End. Like them – it was the other one's too. Flower field. That one was hers. The flower field. White Raven and Sunshine. Full Bloom. Assassinates, not Reaps.

(Reaps - Raven – Ray – Ven – Ven - Ray – Ray – Re – Ree – Ri - Rin – _Rin_ - )

Marluxia dreams of sunshine and flowers. Fields and gates of flowers. The flower field. The flower gate. Flower death. Flowers, flowers, flowers. The End. The End. The End. Blood on sunshine. Blood on sundress. Limit break. Limit breaking. The limit breaks and the flower gate – blood on the sundress and the limit breaks – limit break - The End.

One shot. That's all he needs. One shot. One signal.

(Sel_phie_.)

The flower gate.

Limit break.

The End.

----------------------- (**XII: Eles**)

Keys and blades and locks.

Cards and keys and blades and locks.

Larxene wonders what difference there is – if any at all.

Larxene wonders what difference a heart (her heart) would make – if any at all.

She was never warm.

In dreams that are not dreams and in thoughts that are not thoughts she sees them. Whoever "they" are, she sees them. The girl with no memory – a band about her head, as much a doll as Larxene's darkness bred brothers and sisters. The king. The Falcon Felling Gambler – an ace always up his sleeve – Larxene could swear he's still– a coin, the king's brother, a song, an opera, the list goes on and on and on and she cuts if off because she **hates** it.

Her heart had always been strong. But she was never warm.

Cold and relentless. Herself, a general.

A general as she fancies herself to be even now, in their preparations to storm the witch-made castle.

Keys and blades and locks.

Cards and keys and blades and locks.

Cards and keys and blades and hearts and locks.

Cards and keys and blades and hearts and Locke.

They were never only this.

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**Echo: End.**

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End file.
